


Stray Crumbs

by AirgiodSLV



Category: Bandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-08-01
Updated: 2007-08-01
Packaged: 2017-10-19 02:35:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/195895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AirgiodSLV/pseuds/AirgiodSLV
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>“Ah.” Jon sticks a finger up in polite disagreement. “We serve Starbucks coffee, yes. But we are so much cooler than that.”</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Stray Crumbs

**Author's Note:**

> Coffee shop AU. In equal parts for [](http://maleyka.livejournal.com/profile)[**maleyka**](http://maleyka.livejournal.com/) and [](http://adellyna.livejournal.com/profile)[**adellyna**](http://adellyna.livejournal.com/), 2/3 of my bandslash OT3.

“Coffee shop,” Ryan says when Spencer swings by his place to study, already locking the front door behind him and zipping up his hoodie against the cooling desert air.

“New?” Spencer asks, taking the news in stride and falling in step beside Ryan.

“Not really, it’s been open a couple of months. I went a few weeks ago, Pete’s band was playing. They have open mic nights.”

“Ah.” Pete. Pete is the reason for just about everything involving Ryan lately, and Spencer hasn’t yet passed judgment on whether that’s a good thing, a bad thing, or just an inevitable thing. “Are they playing tonight?”

Ryan tilts his head back and examines the sky, expression inscrutable as always. “No,” he says finally. “I just couldn’t stand to be in there any longer.”

“Okay,” Spencer says easily. He can study at a coffee shop as easily as he can in Ryan’s bedroom, and he understands all about needing to get out of the house. It’s a good enough reason for him.

*

The coffee place is very artsy. Very Ryan. There are posters on the walls and stickers all over the counter, with big threadbare couches and armchairs clumped around the tables.

Spencer squints up at the specials board, wondering if he should stick with something non-fat and healthy or if he can go a little crazy and over-caffeinate. He’s been trying to stay on a diet for a while now, to shed the last of the baby fat clinging to his hips and stomach, but it’s not really sticking.

“It’s a hard decision, I know,” the guy behind the counter – Jon, his nametag says, with a little pink heart-squiggle in place of the ‘o’ – says seriously. “So many delicious selections to choose from.”

“Um,” Spencer says, not unkindly. “It’s a Starbucks.”

“Ah.” Jon sticks a finger up in polite disagreement. “We serve Starbucks coffee, yes. But we are so much cooler than that.”

“Cool enough to have a vanilla almond latte?” Spencer asks, almost as a test. He’s not willing to get hopes up yet.

Jon doesn’t miss a beat. “For you? I think we can make that happen. Will that be a small or a large?”

“Large,” Spencer answers, put slightly off-balance by the place actually having his favourite drink. Maybe he should have given Ryan a little more credit.

Jon picks up a cup and pauses, eyebrow quirked. “Name?”

“Spencer. S-P-E…yeah,” he finishes lamely, when Jon spins the cup around to show him. “Thanks.”

“Give me three minutes to whip this up and I’ll have it right out for you. Would you like anything else?”

Spencer’s eyes are drawn almost without his conscious permission to the dessert rack, and his slip doesn’t go unnoticed. “Try the carrot cake,” Jon advises with a grin. “I’m very generous with the cream cheese frosting.”

*

Jon is not only generous with frosting, he’s a fucking culinary master when it comes to rich desserts. Spencer is mid-food orgasm when Jon comes out to their table, drink in hand. “Here you go,” he says cheerfully, while Spencer straightens from his slump and tries not to look like he was just creaming himself over a mouthful of carrot cake.

“Thanks,” he tries to say, but there’s still a fork in his mouth so it’s kind of muffled. Jon just grins and goes back to the counter. Spencer replays the entire scene in his mind, complete with soft, happy carrot-cake moaning, and groans.

Ryan doesn’t appear to notice. He does, however, say, “Dude, what’s up with your cup?”

Spencer turns it around to look. There are no pink squiggly hearts, but there is a floppy-eared bunny holding a carrot. “Um,” he says.

Ryan smirks.

*

They go back on Tuesday night, because Pete’s band is going to play again and therefore Ryan has to be there. Spencer tags along because Ryan pretty much demands it, and it’s not a bad way to spend an evening, all things considered.

There’s someone else playing when they get there, a guy with a guitar perched on a stool at the center of the makeshift stage. He has a surprisingly good voice and plays with feeling, occasionally pausing between songs to smile at the small crowd and push back the long hair falling across his eyes.

Pete’s already there, hanging out with someone else from his band, and Spencer is ditched immediately as Ryan goes to say hello. Spencer consoles himself with coffee and another look at the dessert rack.

“Hey,” Jon says when Spencer reaches the front of the short line. “Vanilla almond latte, right? Are we sticking with that, or branching out?”

“Tried and true,” Spencer answers, surprised and pleased at having his order remembered. “But make it a small this time.”

Jon raises his eyebrows but reaches for the appropriate cup. “Cutting back on the caffeine?” he asks.

Spencer shrugs. “That way I can come back for a second,” he says, and if his cheeks are a little pink, he’s hoping Jon doesn’t notice it.

Jon chuckles, and writes Spencer’s name on the cup without asking. “Anything else?” he asks, fingers poised over the register.

Spencer ignores the call of the Chocolate Decadence and shakes his head with a little smile. “Saving it for later.”

*

He’s put up with twenty minutes of Ryan mooning by the time he runs out of coffee, and Jon’s still behind the counter with no one in line, so Spencer gives up his comfortable seat and goes to order another.

“Back for latte number two?” Jon inquires with a warm smile, and Spencer feels his chest do something inappropriate like flutter and squeeze.

“Yeah,” Spencer answers, and then adds, “I didn’t get a drawing this time, I’m kind of disappointed.”

Jon pulls a fresh cup from the stack and tilts his head sideways to shake his hair out of his eyes. “There was a rush, sorry.” He sticks his tongue between his teeth as he concentrates on writing out Spencer’s name in bubble-letters, and then grins, looking anything but apologetic. “I’ll do better next time, I promise.”

There’s a smattering of applause and the guy with the guitar hops down, cutting off Spencer’s reply by sliding behind the counter and trapping Jon in a loose one-armed embrace.

“Hey, Bill,” Jon says, leaning back a little into the awkward hug. “Sounded good.”

“Thanks.” Bill’s smile is slightly dazzling, like he’s just been told he won the lottery and doesn’t have to pay any tax on it. His eyes travel over Spencer, only slightly interested, before returning to Jon. “Are there any croissants left? I’ll love you forever.”

“Saved one for you, on the counter in the back,” Jon answers, and Bill gives him a smacking kiss on the cheek and a promise of true fidelity. “Yeah, yeah,” Jon says, but he’s smiling as Bill slips off in search of the promised pastry.

“Do you know all the musicians?” Spencer asks, curious. It’s not that he’s wondering if Bill is anyone special, or if Jon _has_ someone special, he’s just…curious.

“Yeah, pretty much. Most of them are local, they play here every week. Bill’s here even when it’s not open mic sometimes, just hangs out and works on songs.” Jon has finished whatever he’s drawing on the cup, but he keeps it shielded from view with amusement glittering in his eyes when Spencer tries to look.

“Do you know Pete?” Spencer asks, to cover for his obvious interest in Jon’s doodling.

“Yeah,” Jon answers, sliding Spencer’s cup behind the espresso machine, out of sight. “Your friend’s got a crush, huh?”

Spencer’s a little startled. “I guess so.” Ryan wouldn’t call it a crush, but then Ryan doesn’t have to watch himself making eyes and spending forty-five minutes picking out what to wear every time they go to see Pete play. “How did you know?”

Jon’s eyes are full of mischief. “Maybe I’ve been watching you,” he says casually, and Spencer hopes Jon doesn’t notice the way his breath catches. “Ready for that dessert?”

*

On Saturday, Jon’s boyfriend shows up.

There’s a slightly bigger crowd than usual, kids playing card games and doing homework, hanging out on the sidewalk outside kicking around a hacky-sack and laughing. Bill’s there with his guitar, mostly goofing off with chords and riffs, chatting with friends, but he takes a few impromptu requests when people ask.

Ryan’s curled up in his favourite armchair, notebook open on his lap and chewing his pen writing emo-poetry about Pete – “Fuck off, I am not!” – and Spencer’s just enjoying the atmosphere, drinking his coffee and not actually reading the book he’s brought with him because he keeps sneaking glances at Jon.

Ryan gives him a pointed look, knowing and long-suffering, but Ryan has absolutely no room to talk, so Spencer ignores him. His cup tonight has a bunch of balloons and a little stick figure floating away at the end of the strings, with a speech-bubble saying, “aiee” and one foot on the ‘r’ of Spencer’s name. He doesn’t know what it means, if anything, but he doesn’t particularly need to. Jon had grinned at him when he’d brought it over, and it could have been a humpbacked tortoise for all Spencer cared.

“Hey,” Ryan says, and he’s frowning, breaking Spencer out of his coffee-cup reverie. “Who’s that?”

Spencer looks, following Ryan’s gaze, and sees a skinny guy about their age hanging out behind the counter, both arms around Jon and chin on his shoulder. Jon’s writing something on a cup for the customer at the counter, and the new guy says something, grinning like a kid at a cartoon, burying his nose in Jon’s ear and laughing.

“Fuck,” Spencer says.

*

Spencer doesn’t want to go, but it’s Tuesday, which means Pete is playing, which means he has no choice. “Come on,” Ryan coaxes desperately. “I can’t go by myself, how lame would that be, you have to come.”

Spencer gives in after making Ryan promise to buy him something sweet and fattening, and only on the condition that they leave right after Pete’s band finishes.

That still leaves him standing at the counter alone while Ryan chats up Pete, trying to decide between lemon meringue and coconut cream when Jon comes out from the back and wipes his hands off on a towel. “Almond joy!” he greets Spencer, which is random but also kind of endearing, or would be if Spencer didn’t already know that Jon was taken.

“Hey,” Spencer says, and because he still can’t decide, “What’s your favourite pie?”

“Huckleberry,” Jon says promptly. “But we don’t have that, so if I were you, I’d go with the coconut. Same drink as usual, or can I talk you into something less vanilla?”

His eyebrow waggle is not as suggestive as it’s obviously meant to be, but Spencer ends up laughing anyway and says, “Same, thanks. And a piece of the coconut.”

“Coming right up,” Jon replies, and then someone – the kid from Saturday night, gangly limbs and red-framed glasses – comes up beside Spencer and hops right onto the counter.

“Hi,” the kid says, grinning at Jon, and steals a lollipop from the mug on the counter.

“Hey,” Jon answers, returning the smile with warmth. Spencer wishes to be anywhere but here, and shifts his weight from foot to foot while Jon apparently forgets about his pie and his coffee. “Are you here for a while?”

The kid shrugs, involved in what looks like an astonishingly thorough lollipop blow job while he swings his feet off the edge of the counter. Spencer grudgingly admits to himself that the kid has good taste in sneakers. And, apparently, scruffy-haired baristas.

“Hi,” the kid says again, suddenly, and this time he’s looking at Spencer. “I’m Brendon.”

“Spencer,” Spencer answers, and Brendon sticks the lollipop into his mouth and grins.

Jon is writing on his cup, something small and involved, and Brendon leans all the way back over the counter to watch. He rests his head on Jon’s shoulder, turning the lollipop over in his mouth with his tongue, and pulls it out to say, “No no no, put it on the…yeah.”

“Who’s the doodle artist here, you or me?” Jon asks, but he smiles as he says it and laughs when Brendon nuzzles his face into Jon’s hair.

Spencer really needs that pie right about now.

“How much?” he asks, because Jon hasn’t rung him up yet and he doesn’t want to hang around any longer than he has to.

Jon, busy shrugging Brendon and his lollipop pointer-stick away from Spencer’s cup-doodle, just gives him a quick, unreadable look and then shakes his head. “It’s on the house.”

“Thanks,” Spencer says, confused. Brendon looks up at him and smiles.

*

Bill is three songs into his set when he stops to drag another stool up onto the stage. Spencer’s never seen him play anything but solo, so he’s not sure what’s going on now. He glances over at Ryan, but Ryan is chewing on his thumbnail, intently watching Pete and his friends.

“Jon!” Bill calls out, and there are a few encouraging whoops from Bill’s friends hanging nearby. “Come back me up for this one!”

Spencer looks over in surprise, but sure enough Jon is coming out from behind the counter, holding the long neck of an acoustic bass guitar in one hand. He perches on the stool next to Bill, both of them turned into each other, tuning and talking quietly for a few seconds. Then Bill looks out again and says, “This is for everybody who wants to go home with someone tonight,” grinning as he says it, and Jon laughs and strikes the first chord.

Jon is good. Spencer isn’t really surprised by that, although he’s fascinated by the way Jon plays, bent over the strings with a line of concentration between his brows that Spencer has never seen before, occasionally glancing over at Bill with a more familiar grin. He fucks up in the middle of the last chorus, a wrong note hit somewhere between chords, and Bill fucks up right after him and they both start laughing while Bill calls out, “Don’t abandon us yet, we’re still working on it!” and they start up again.

Spencer knows, somewhere inside, that he’s staring, but he doesn’t consciously realize it until Jon looks up as the last chord dies, through the ruffled fall of his hair, and smiles at him. Spencer starts, feeling guilty and pleased all at once, because Brendon is clapping and cheering from Jon’s usual place behind the counter, but he’s not the one Jon is looking at right now.

“Song number two, and not by Blur,” Bill says when the spatter of applause dies down, giving Jon another crooked grin. “Let’s see if you guys know this one.”

Jon is poised over his guitar again, narrowed focus, but after the song is over he looks up at Spencer again, and his smile feels warmer than it ever has before.

“Dude,” Ryan mutters beside him, eyes on the stage but flicking sideways glances at Spencer every time Jon looks their way.

Spencer thinks he should probably answer, but it’s gotten surprisingly hard to breathe.

*

They end up staying late, because Ryan’s joined Pete and his band hanging out by the stage talking, and Spencer doesn’t realize until Jon drops into the chair across from him that the coffee shop is officially closed.

“Here’s the thing,” Jon begins, looking embarrassed but earnest, a combination Spencer is having trouble not finding adorable. “I was going to play it cool and wait a few more nights, warm you up a little before I asked you this, but I’m pretty sure I ruined that tonight.”

Spencer blinks. He opens his mouth to say something, not sure yet quite what, but Jon rushes ahead.

“So you can turn me down if you want and there’s no hard feelings, I promise. I could be reading this all wrong, and you could be just a really nice guy who smiles a lot. At least you’ll have gotten a free piece of pie out of the deal, right? And it’s good pie, I made it myself. But if you want more than pie, or more pie, or whatever, would you like to go out with me sometime?”

It takes another minute, but Spencer finds his voice. “I thought…” His eyes skid sideways to Brendon, who has joined in with the group clustered around Pete and is gesturing dramatically while Ryan laughs.

Jon sees where he’s looking, grins and then visibly tries to swallow it before Spencer can get offended. “Brendon? He’s a friend. And he’s had the hots for Mikey for weeks now, so I think it’s safe to say he won’t be too upset.”

Spencer looks over again and sees Brendon’s attention and megawatt smile fully riveted on one of the guys who’s always hanging around Pete, a tall, lanky kid wearing glasses and a lot of black. “Huh,” he says intelligently.

“So, um.” Jon coughs, bringing Spencer’s eyes back to him. “Is that a yes? Maybe? Because I have to tell you, I’ve seen you eat chocolate éclairs, and I’m not sure I can walk away from that.”

There’s a mermaid in a coconut bra on his coffee cup, and an ‘e’ that looks suspiciously like a squiggly heart. It’s not a particularly difficult decision to make.

“Yes,” Spencer says with a smile, one of the ones he only ever seems to use around Jon. “That’s very definitely a yes.”


End file.
